


Blue

by DoomedOTPs



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Cressi, CressiWeek2019, Leonaldo, M/M, cressiweek2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 17:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomedOTPs/pseuds/DoomedOTPs
Summary: Lionel Messi's thoughts and actions immediately following Argentina getting knocked out of the 2018 World Cup. (Sergio only makes a brief appearance. Cristiano is only mentioned. Messi-centric. Oops. 🤷)





	Blue

**Blue**

Lionel stopped running. It was over. The referee had blown the final whistle. He had lost. _Argentina_ had lost. He had failed his country. Again. Never mind that he had broken countless records and was regarded as one of the best footballers of all time - maybe even the **greatest** of all time. Never mind how many trophies he had won for Barcelona. He hadn't lifted any trophies for Argentina. And the critics wouldn't stop pointing out that fact.

Lionel looked down at his feet, unable to keep his head held high in the wake of another defeat. _Blue and white._ The colors of his beloved Argentina jersey. The colors that haunted his dreams. So different from the blue and red of Barca. No. The 2 blues weren't the same. Not even close.

In one of them, he had won the league and Champions League, among other trophies. In the other, he had only experienced heartache. The crest above his heart felt like it weighed a ton, like it was actually going to crush his ribcage. He took deep breaths and tried to steady his breathing and bring his heart rate down. He could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer, as if it was trying to beat right out of his chest. ‘It would probably hurt less,' Leo thought to himself.

The feeling of letting his teammates down was nothing compared to the feeling of letting an entire nation down. Just the thought made him nauseous. 'Keep it together. There are cameras everywhere. Don't give the tabloids any ammo. Just keep it together until you reach the locker room,' he kept telling himself.

He could do this. One foot in front of the other. Shake hands with the French players. He barely registered his Barca teammate, Samuel Umtiti, trying to console him. Leo tried not to look up at the stands. There was a sea of blue and white. Men, women and children dressed in his jersey. Men, women and children who had painted their faces blue and white earlier that day - full of hope and joy.

They had made it to the finals last time. Surely, this time they would win it! How were they supposed to know that they would be knocked out of the competition this early? No. Leo didn't dare to look up at the stands. He couldn't bear to look at the tear-stained faces of his fellow countrymen. A sad mixture of the blue and white paint that looked better on a painting than on a person.

He was close to the tunnel. He was almost there when he heard it. A fan in the crowd yelled, "you should have stayed retired. You were no help at all!!!" Leo stopped short. He felt his blood run cold. All the doubts came back. 'Why did you un-retire?' his brain unhelpfully supplied. "Because I thought I could help," Leo mutters under his breath. He shook his head as he realized that he was having an argument with himself and that this wasn't the time or the place to do that.

Leo jogged down the tunnel quickly and tried to avoid the pitying looks from the staff. This wasn’t how he expected this World Cup to fare. How could he go backwards? From playing the final to not even qualifying for the quarter-finals. Leo hurriedly pulled off his jersey and was about to throw it on the floor when he made eye contact with Paulo Dybala.

Paulo's eyes were as round as saucers and he seemed to be holding his breath, waiting to see what Leo would do. Leo knew that the kid practically worshipped him. He suddenly couldn't find it in his heart to toss the shirt on the floor. It felt disrespectful to the badge. Leo grasped the shirt tighter and lowered his hand. He placed the shirt on the bench and sank down next to it. And not a moment too soon because his legs seemed to have turned into jelly.

Leo rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. Maybe he should retire again - _for good this time._ He could never do enough for Argentina. He would never fill Maradona's boots. It was pointless to try. No... the blue on his jersey didn't fill him with excitement. This blue made him cry and wish he had played for the national team of Spain. At least then, he would've won some trophies for his national team. But no. That would be **wrong.** That thought felt treasonous. He couldn't just take the easy way out!

Besides, he was a proud Argentinian. What would his abuela* say if she knew he was even contemplating such a thing? She would be looking down on him and trying to contain her disappointment. Of course he couldn't play for Spain! Even if it would have been amazing to lift a World Cup trophy at just 23 years of age, and alongside his best friends, Gerard Pique and Cesc Fabregas.

Leo sighed. No point in thinking about what could have been. He closed his eyes and tried to picture something - anything - that wouldn't make him want to burst into tears. He tried to focus and the first image his mind conjured was a beach. _Beautiful white sand_ _and turquoise water as far as the eye could see. But Leo wasn't on the beach or even in the sea. He was in a hot tub, sipping expensive champagne and trying to pay attention to what Cris was saying._

_Cris. Cristiano Ronaldo. CR7 to the rest of the world. But just Cris to him. He always had been. Cris was talking about some new business venture and Leo was trying to pretend like he cared. Eventually, the noise died down. Leo turned his head to see Cris staring at him. Apparently, Cris had asked him a question and when he hadn't replied, Cris decided to just stare at Leo until he could get the shorter man's attention. Leo grinned sheepishly and failed to keep the blush on his face from spreading down to his chest._

_There was just something about the way Cris looked at him that made Leo fidget. A look of pure adoration was just as disconcerting to Leo as a look of annoyance. He couldn't decipher the look in Cris's eyes now. Slowly, the Portuguese striker approached his Argentine counterpart. He smiled fondly at Leo before leaning down to kiss him. They kissed languidly as if they had all the time in the world. And in that moment, it felt like they did._

_The secluded beach on the private island was the perfect getaway spot. Where else could the world's 2 most famous footballers go and find any kind of privacy? For once, Leo was glad that Cris loved to spend his money on luxurious things. He's not sure he could have convinced himself to buy a private island just for occasional use._

Leo is so lost in the memory that he didn't hear his name being called. Sergio Aguero, a.k.a. Kun, his best in the Argentina NT, had been trying to get his attention for the past 5 minutes. Kun wanted to know if Leo wanted to shower here or head back to the hotel and shower there. Leo's skin was sweaty and he knew a shower would be nice, but he also wanted to get out of the stadium as soon as possible. To be honest, he'd like to leave Russia a.s.a.p. Leo gathered up his things and followed Kun back to the team bus.

No one was talking. People were doing their best to try to avoid eye contact. Kun knew him well enough to realize that Leo needed his space right now. He'd never been more thankful to have such an amazing best friend. Kun silently sat next to him for the whole ride. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of comfortable silence that can only exist between two people who know each other so well that they can have a whole conversation with a look; just being in each other's presence is enough to be happy.

Yes, Leo knew how lucky he was. He made his way to his room and took a long hot shower. The water pressure was excellent and he could feel the knots in his back muscles loosening. When the water started to get cold, Leo turned the faucets off. As he dried himself off with the plush blue towel, he suddenly remembered that Cris was playing his own match today.

Portugal versus Uruguay. Cris versus Luis Suarez, one of Leo’s best friends at Barca. One of them would be elated after the match; the other would be devastated. Selfishly, Leo hoped Portugal would lose. He wasn't in the mood to congratulate Cris. Leo found the remote to the TV in his hotel room and quickly switched to the channel that was showing Cris's game.

In the end, Portugal was knocked out and Leo genuinely found himself feeling sorry for them. He knew Cris must be devastated. Leo had experienced the same emotions just hours ago. Hell, he was still processing them. His heart broke for Cris and he wanted to grab him and give him a hug. Kiss him until he couldn't think of anything else. But Cris was in the stadium and Leo was in his hotel room.

He knew Cris would need his space, but he didn't want to suffer alone. He wanted to wallow together and commiserate on this pathetic end to their World Cup campaigns. There might not _be_ another World Cup for either of them. That thought was enough to depress Leo and make him plop onto his mattress. Leo tried to decide what to do next. After much deliberation, he decided to go to Cris's private island and swim away his troubles.

The azure sky and the cerulean sea would welcome him back with open arms. Now those were shades of blue that he could fully get behind. They brought him nothing but peace and joy. Having made up his mind, Leo quickly packed his suitcase and headed for the airport. He tried to blend in, making sure he wasn't wearing anything blue or white; he didn't want to risk being discovered. When he boarded the flight, Leo took out his phone to send Cris a text. If Cris wanted to join him, great; if not, he would still go by himself. He needed to get away from everything. He needed to forget the blue (& white) that burdened him. And he wanted Cris to join him, so they could chase away each other's blues. 

**Author's Note:**

> After literally reading THOUSANDS of fics, I finally decided to write one. I don't think it's very good, but it's Cressi Week and I love Cressi. So here goes nothing. Feedback would be great. Kudos are much appreciated!!!
> 
> * abuela = Spanish for grandmother


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